>N 


RGE    BRANDES 


UNIVERSITY  OF   ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 


Class  Book 


volume 


Je  06-10M 


ON    READING 


ON    READING 

AN  ESSAY 

BY 

GEORGE   BRANDES 


NEW  YORK 

DUFFIELD  $  COMPANY 
1906 


Copyright,  1905,  by  Fox,  Duffield,  $  Company 

Copyright,  1906,  by  Duffield  $  Company 

Published  August,  1906 


The  University  Press,  Cambridge,  U.  8.  A. 


ON    READING 


-  <ao 


89013 


ON  READING 

A  FEW  years  ago  several  Euro- 
pean newspapers  offered  prizes 
for  a  list  of  the  best  one  hundred 
books  for  a  first-class  library.  The 
answers  poured  in:  the  Bible  and 
"  Robinson  Crusoe,"  Homer  and 
Horace,  Dante  and  Shakespeare, 
Holberg  and  Oehlenschlager,  Goethe 
and  Mickiewitz,  Racine  and  Pas- 
cal, Arany  and  Petofi,  Cervantes 
and  Calderon,  Bjornson  and  Ibsen, 
Tegner  and  Runeberg,  —  each  list 
characteristic  of  the  country  and  the 
individual  taste  of  the  correspondent. 
It  is  childish  to  suppose  that  a 
hundred  books  can  be  named  as 
3 


ON    READING 

those  which  are  the  best  for  each 
and  every  one. 

The  simplest  experience  of  the 
world  proves  that  a  work  of  great 
excellence  may  deeply  move  one 
person,  while  it  leaves  another  un- 
touched; and  that  a  book  which  has 
influenced  one  strongly  in  one's 
youth  may  lose  such  influence  over 
one's  later  years.  There  is  practi- 
cally nothing  that  every  man  can 
read  at  every  time. 

This  fact  is  not  particularly  evi- 
dent, of  course,  for  the  simple  reason 
that  nowadays  very  few  people  can 
be  said  to  read  at  all,  or  enjoy  read- 
ing, or  get  any  good  out  of  it.  Out 
of  a  hundred  persons  able  to  read, 
ninety  generally  read  nothing  but 
newspapers,  —  a  species  of  reading 
which  demands  no  exertion.  Most 


ON    READING 

people,  for  that  matter,  read  without 
any  particular  attentiveness.  Per- 
haps they  select  reading-matter  which 
does  not  deserve  any  particular  at- 
tention. What  wonder,  then,  that 
they  forget  what  they  read?  Every- 
one will  recall  such  remarks  as  the 
following:  "There's  no  use  talking 
to  me  about  this  book  or  that  book, 
—  I  must  have  read  it,  I  sup- 
pose, some  years  ago;  but  I  have 
the  unfortunate  faculty  of  for- 
getting everything  I  read."  And 
many  people,  after  all,  are  not 
accustomed  to  understand  fully. 
They  are  like  young  people  read- 
ing books  in  foreign  languages, 
who  neglect  to  refer  to  the  diction- 
ary for  words  they  do  not  under- 
stand; they  infer  them  from  the 
sense,  —  so  they  say ;  that  is,  they 
5 


ON    READING 

understand    half,    and    are    content 
with  that. 

In  the  case  of  works,  the  nature  of 
which  is  not  intended  to  be  grasped 
by  the  intellect,  as,  for  example,  in 
lyric  poetry,  readers  generally  re- 
linquish beforehand  all  idea  of  un- 
derstanding exactly  what  the  author 
means.  An  acquaintance  of  mine,  in 
a  company  of  ladies,  once  tried  the 
experiment  of  reading  aloud  Goethe's 
The  God  and  the  Bayadere,  beginning 
each  verse  with  the  last  line,  and  read- 
ing upwards.  The  rhymes  fell  with- 
out intermission,  all  the  melody  of  the 
verses  was  retained  —  and  every  one 
was  charmed  with  the  following: 

"  Then  by  her  with  grace  is  the  nosegay  be- 
stowed. 

Well  skilled  in  its  mazes  the  sight  to  entrance, 
The  cymbal  she  hastens  to  play  for  the  dance. 
And  this  house  is  love's  abode." 

6 


ON    READING 

Reflecting  a  little  upon  this  and 
similar  phenomena,  one  readily  finds 
oneself  raising  the  questions: 

Why  should  we  read? 

What  should  we  read? 

How  should  we  read? 

It  is  neither  superfluous  nor  idle  to 
raise  these  questions.  I  had  accepted 
invitations  several  times  to  the  home 
of  a  well-to-do  family  enjoying  a 
good  position  abroad,  —  a  house- 
hold which  took  a  certain  standing 
in  the  artistic  life  of  a  capital  city, 
—  when  it  struck  me  one  day  that 
I  had  never  seen  any  book-case  or 
book-shelves  in  the  house.  In  reply 
to  my  query,  I  was  told  that  they 
had  no  book-case,  nor  any  books, 
except  the  two  or  three  that  lay  on 
the  sitting-room  table.  "But  you 
read,  or  have  read  a  good  deal? "  I 
7 


ON    READING 

asked.  "  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  answer; 
"  we  travel  a  good  deal,  as  you  know, 
and  in  the  course  of  the  year  we  buy 
a  great  many  books;  but  we  always 
leave  them  behind  in  the  net," 
meaning  the  nets  of  the  railway 
carriages.  And,  by  way  of  expla- 
nation: "  You  see,  one  never  reads  a 
book  more  than  once." 

I  should  have  caused  great  aston- 
ishment, I  suppose,  had  I  replied 
that  in  the  domain  of  reading  —  if 
in  no  other  —  it  is  regarded  as  a 
changeless  rule  that  one  time  is  no 
time  at  all,  that  a  man  who  restricts 
himself  to  one  reading  of  a  good 
book  knows  little  about  it.  The 
books  I  value  I  have  frequently  read 
more  than  ten  times;  indeed,  in  some 
cases  I  could  not  possibly  say  how 
many  times.  One  does  not  really 
8 


ON    READING 

know  a  book  until  one  knows  it 
almost  by  heart. 

It  is  a  good  thing,  too,  if  one 
has  the  means,  to  own  one's  books. 
There  are  people  who  do  not  own  any 
books,  although  they  have  the  means. 
I  was  once,  invited,  abroad,  to  the 
house  of  a  certain  Maecenas,  —  a 
man  whose  art  collections  are  worth 
considerably  more  than  a  million,  — 
and  when  I  had  viewed  his  pictures, 
I  said :  "  Now  I  should  like  to  see 
the  books.  Where  are  they?  "  He 
replied,  somewhat  testily:  "I  do  not 
collect  books."  He  had  none. 

There  are  people  who  are  con- 
tent, as  to  books,  with  the  provision 
afforded  them  by  circulating  libra- 
ries, —  a  sorry  method  at  the  best. 
It  is  a  sure  sign  of  failing  culture 
and  poor  taste  when  at  every  water- 
9  ' 


ON    READING 

ing-place  in  a  great  country  expen- 
sively dressed  women  are  invariably 
seen  eachVith  a  greasy  novel  from 
a  circulating  library  in  her  hand. 
These  ladies,  who  would  be  ashamed 
to  borrow  a  dress,  or  wear  second- 
hand clothes,  do  not  hesitate  to  econ- 
omize in  book-buying.  As  a  result, 
they  read  one  novel  after  another, 
and  the  last  supplants  all  knowledge 
of  those  that  have  gone  before. 

The  man  who  replied  "  I  do  not 
collect  books,"  saw  no  necessity  for 
reading.  He  belonged  to  the  wealthy 
bourgeois  class,  and  men  of  that  class 
rarely  have  the  time  and  the  con- 
centration for  reading  anything  but 
newspapers.  Outside  the  ranks  of 
scholars,  a  strong  and  passionate  love 
for  reading  is  felt,  in  the  main,  only 
by  those  who  have  neither  the  time 
10 


ON    READING 

nor  the  means  for  it,  —  the  lower 
middle  classes,  artisans,  and  work- 
men. Among  these  latter  there  is 
still  to  be  found  that  thirst  for 
education  which  distinguished  the 
wealthy  bourgeois  classes  a  hundred 
years  ago,  though  it  was  so  quickly 
slaked. 

Why  should  we  read?  is  therefore 
the  question  that  requires  an  answer 
first. 

I  do  not  overestimate  the  knowl- 
edge that  can  be  acquired  through 
reading.  In  many  cases  it  is  neces- 
sarily only  a  poor  apology  for  direct 
knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  life. 
It  is  of  more  use  to  travel  widely 
than  to  read  detailed  and  comprehen- 
sive descriptions  of  travels.  You 
learn  to  know  men  better  by  observ- 
ing them  in  real  life  than  by  inves- 
11 


ON    READING 

tigating  them  in  books.  I  will  go 
still  further,  and  say  that  sculptures, 
paintings,  and  drawings,  when  they 
are  the  work  of  the  greatest  artists, 
are  profoundly  more  instructive 
than  the  great  majority  of  books. 
Michael  Angelo,  Titian,  Velasquez, 
Rembrandt,  have  taught  me  more 
concerning  humanity  than  whole 
libraries  of  books. 

Books  can  at  best  present  only  a 
theory.  A  doctor  must  study  his 
case;  he  cannot  obtain  all  his  knowl- 
edge by  reading,  and  neither  can 
books  teach  us  anything  unless  we 
learn  also  from  life.  If  we  have  no 
knowledge  of  mankind,  we  cannot 
enjoy  even  a  novel.  We  are  not  in 
a  position  to  judge  whether  it  gives 
a  true  or  a  false  picture  of  things  as 
they  are. 


ON    READING 

As  proof  of  this  we  need  only 
recall  the  many  foolish  remarks  with 
which  in  the  course  of  the  year  one 
hears  good  books  dismissed.  "  No- 
body would  feel  or  act  like  that,"  is 
the  off-hand  verdict  of  one  person 
or  another  who  has  known  only  a 
small  circle  of  people,  and  never 
understood  anything  of  what  was 
going  on  in  the  minds  of  those 
around  him.  Such  persons  term  a 
book  poor  and  unreal  because  it  hap- 
pens to  be  outside  the  reality  with 
which  they  themselves  happen  to  be 
acquainted,  —  a  reality  which  is  to 
actual  reality  what  a  duck-pond  is  to 
the  ocean. 

We  are  not  to  believe,  then,  that 
we  can  attain  to  any  wisdom  simply 
by  devouring  books.  Many  qualifi- 
cations are  necessary  merely  to  un- 
13 


ON    READING 

derstand  and  make  one's  own  the 
fraction  of  wisdom  that  a  good  book 
may  contain,  —  qualifications  derived 
from  life. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  is  also  true 
that  books  have  certain  advantages 
which  men  have  not. 

Jt  They  set  thoughts  in  motion, — 
which  men  seldom  do.  2  .  They  are 
silent  when  questions  are  not  asked 
of  them;  men  are  seldom  so  dis- 
creet. Recall  how  often  you  have 
received  visits  from  intrusive,  trouble- 
some people!  Yet  the  seven  thou- 
sand or  eight  thousand  volumes 
in  my  study  have  never  been  a 
trouble  to  me,  often  a  pleasure. 

\  And    books    are    seldom    so    inane 

as  people.    One  feels  frequently  like 

applying  to  the  mass  of  humanity 

those   words   of   Goethe:    "If   they 

14 


ON    READING 

were  books,  I  would  not  read 
them." 

If  I  may  be  permitted  an  exceed- 
ingly trite  observation,  we  ought  also 
to  read  so  as  to  add  to  our  own  ex- 
perience those  of  other  men,  greater 
and  more  competent  than  ourselves. 
We  ought  to  read  because  in  science 
the  work  and  investigation  of  cen- 
turies is  presented  to  us  in  a  clear, 
condensed  form,  and  because  in  lit- 
erature we  meet  with  a  peculiar 
beauty  and  with  beauty-loving  per- 
sonalities that  we  can  learn  to  know 
in  no  other  way  .-^Reading  has  power 
to  make  us  keener  and  more  suscep- 
tible to  the  values  of  things. 

Furthermore^'if  reading  affords 
no  more  than  innocent  entertain- 
ment, it  is  worth  while  in  the  weari- 
someness  and  monotonous  exertion 
15 


ON    READING 

of  daily  life.  Reading  for  pure 
amusement  is  by  no  means  to  be 
despised,  —  so  long  as  it  does  indeed 
amuse. 

Many  will  add  that  we  should  read 
to  become  better  men  and  women, 
and  demand  in  consequence  that 
stress  should  be  laid  upon  exhorta- 
tory  books,  at  the  expense  of  the 
rest  of  literature.  Literature  must 
be  moral,  they  will  say,  and  operate 
morally;  books  must  be  sermons. 
Far  be  it  from  me  to  deny  that  one 
/  may  grow  better  through  reading; 
but  whether  one  does  or  does  not 
depends  chiefly  upon  how  one  reads, 
and  we  have  not  yet  arrived  at  that 
question.  As  a  rule  we  may  say  that 
nothing  in  the  world  improves  one 
less  than  sermonizing  books  and  con- 
versations; nothing  is  more  weari- 
16 


ON    READING 

some,  quite  apart  from  the  fact  that 
nothing  is  more  inartistic.  Just  as 
you  cannot  train  a  child  by  constant 
scolding,  neither  can  you  develop 
character  by  everlasting  preaching. 
And  the  moralizing  book  is  no  ex- 
ample. Everyone  knows  the  pre- 
cepts he  was  taught  in  childhood,  — 
not  to  act  selfishly,  or  think  basely; 
not  to  lie,  or  cheat,  or  injure,  or  kill. 
We  all  know  these  precepts  so  well 
that  they  make  no  impression  upon 
us,  even  when  we  see  them  illustrated 
in  poetical  compositions.  We  do  not 
demand  of  an  author  that  he  should 
work  to  make  us  better;  that  would 
be  laying  too  heavy  a  burden  upon 
him.  All  that  we  can  demand  of 
him  is  that  he  work  conscientiously, 
and  that  he  have  it  in  him  to  teach 
us  something. 

2  17 


ON    READING 

Also,  we  can  avoid  the  books  that 
would  debase  us.  But  that  leads  to 
our  second  question: 

What  should  we  read? 

What  do  we  read?  Newspapers. 
No  one  will  deny  that  newspaper 
reading  has  become  a  necessity  to  us 
all,  and  that  the  papers  rapidly,  and 
(occasionally)  conscientiously,  impart 
knowledge,  though,  it  is  true,  of  a 
very  scattered  kind.  Day  after  day 
they  teach  us  all  sorts  of  interesting 
things  and  point  the  way  to  much 
other  reading.  No  sooner  are  we 
out  of  bed  in  the  morning  than 
we  must  have  our  newspaper  whirl- 
ing us  round  through  Europe, 
Africa,  Asia,  and  America.  An 
editor  might  say,  as  the  ditty  has  it, 
"  I  whirl  my  hens  six  or  seven  times 
round."  And  at  the  same  time  he 
18 


ON    READING 

fills  his  readers  up  with  various  items 
of  the  day's  news;  often  we  get  the 
interesting  information  that  Mr. 
Jensen,  the  broker,  is  stopping  in 
the  country  at  Ordrup;  or  that  Mr.  J 
Larsen,  the  painter,  is  spending  the 
summer  in  the  district  of  Horn. 

In  reading  the  papers  we  yield  to 
the  desire  to  see  our  own  opinions, 
sometimes  little  else  than  prejudices 
instilled  into  us  by  others,  expressed 
and  advocated  in  print  better  than 
we  ourselves  could  ever  do.  The 
foolish  newspapers'  foolish  readers 
expect,  moreover,  to  be  crammed 
with  all  sorts  of  private  scandal, 
partly  that  they  may  see  those  poli- 
ticians or  literary  men  whose  views 
are  opposed  to  theirs,  and  so  unpop- 
ular, properly  ground  down.  This 
last  is  a  peculiarly  Danish  relaxation. 
19 


ON    READING 

The  acknowledged  good-nature  of 
the  Danish  people  is  counterbalanced 
by  an  extraordinarily  pronounced 
petty  malice.  As  other  nations 
enjoy  bull-fights,  cock-fights,  and 
boxers'  bleeding  noses,  so  the  Danish 
public  take  delight  in  every  sort  of 
private  persecution  and  private  scan- 
dal published  in  their  press. 

There  are  only  two  things  one 
would  wish  for  newspaper  readers: 
—  that  they  might  read  their  favor- 
ite papers  with  some  exercise  of  the 
faculty  of  criticism;  and  be  not  so 
satisfied  with  newspaper  reading  as 
to  incapacitate  them  for  any  other. 

At  the  beginning  of  this  article  I 
set  about  the  task  of  controverting 
the  opinion  that  any  definite  number 
of  books  could  be  designated  as  the 
best  books  for  every  one. 
20 


ON    READING 

There  is  one  Book  of  Books  that 
is  generally  regarded  as  the  most 
suitable  of  all  for  general  and  con- 
stant reading,  the  very  best  book,  - 
the  Bible.  Few  books,  however, 
prove  so  conclusively  as  this  that  the 
bulk  of  mankind  cannot  read  at  all. 
The  so-called  Old  Testament  com- 
prises, as  is  well  known,  all  that  is 
left  to  us  of  the  ancient  Hebrew  lit- 
erature of  a  period  of  eight  hundred 
years,  together  with  some  few  books 
in  Greek.  It  includes  writings  of 
the  most  various  value  and  the  most 
various  origin,  which  have  come  down 
to  us  with  texts  comparatively  re- 
cently edited,  often  corrupt  and  fur- 
ther marred  by  endless  copyings ;  — 
writings  ascribed  as  a  rule  to  men 
who  never  wrote  them,  nearly  all  of 
them  difficult  to  understand,  and  de- 


ON    READING 

manding  extensive  historical  knowl- 
edge in  order  to  be  read  with  the 
smallest  degree  of  profit. 

Certain  of  the  books  of  the  Old 
Testament,  like  the  collection  which 
bears  the  name  of  Isaiah,  contain 
some  of  the  sublimest  extant  poetry 
of  antiquity, — a  witness  to  the  purest 
craving  for  righteousness,  the  high- 
est religious  development  to  be  found 
on  earth  at  that  time,  seven  hundred 
and  fifty  or  five  hundred  years  be- 
fore our  era.  Others,  as  for  example 
the  Chronicles,  are  of  less  value,  and 
are  not  strictly  accurate  in  their  his- 
torical recitals. 

There  is  much  evidence  that  such 
reading  confuses  men's  minds. 

Yet  if  the  acknowledged  "  best " 
book  cannot  be  called  good  for 
every  one,  then  how  much  less  the 


ON    READING 

classics!  In  the  majority  of  well- 
to-do  homes  the  so-called  classical 
works  are  to  be  found  in  every 
book-case.  But  it  is  surprisingly 
true  that  they  stand  there  principally 
for  show,  are  seldom  or  never  read, 
and  give  but  little  pleasure  when 
they  are  read,  because  it  is  a  mere 
chance  whether  they  are  understood. 
The  classical  writers  wrote  for  earlier 
generations,  and  their  works  contain 
as  a  rule  a  good  deal  that  is  alien  to 
the  generations  that  have  arisen  after 
them.  For  this  reason  it  is  perhaps 
best  to  begin  with  books  written  for 
those  now  living.  Young  people  will 
quite  understand  these,  and  the  way 
will  be  prepared  for  the  great  writers 
of  the  past.  Again,  the  classics  not 
infrequently  stand  upon  people's 
book-shelves  as  involuntary  witnesses 
23 


ON    READING 

to  their  owner's  lack  of  individual- 
ity. Often  the  purchaser  has  had 
no  personal  affection  for  them,  and 
has  them  only  because  his  social  posi- 
tion requires  it.  It  is  true  that  in 
this  way  he  often  comes  to  have  good 
books.  But  the  credit  of  the  selec- 
tion is  only  in  a  very  small  measure 
his  own;  and  the  good  books  are 
generally  of  the  past,  rarely  of  the 
present. 

The  average  man's  mind  is  inim- 
ical to  new  thoughts  and  new  forms. 
Geniuses  in  their  lifetime  —  if  they 
do  not  live  to  be  very  old  —  always 
have  the  majority  against  them.  It 
is  not  at  all  surprising  that  they  live 
and  die  unrecognized;  the  amazing 
thing  is  that  they  should  occasionally 
be  recognized.  When  they  are,  the 
recognition  is  partly  due  to  the  fact 


ON    READING 

that  what  is  truly  excellent  operates 
with  a  wonderfully  compelling  force. 
The  good,  in  the  mass,  has  a  corro- 
sive action  upon  the  mediocre ;  it  eats 
its  way  through.  A  few  —  connois- 
seurs, judges  of  art  —  proclaim  the 
worth  of  the  good  books  so  loud  and 
long  that  they  frighten  the  snobbish 
into  the  fear  of  being  called  stupid 
if  they  scoff  any  longer;  and  alto- 
gether act  in  a  regularly  hypnotic 
manner  on  the  popular  mind,  so  that 
people  believe  they  think  the  good, 
good,  and  in  time  familiarize  them- 
selves with  the  idea  of  thinking  so. 

It  is  of  course  right  to  aim  at  a 
common,  solid  educational  basis,  to 
put  into  a  child's  hands  adventures, 
-"Robinson  Crusoe,"  the  "Odys- 
sey," —  to  let  a  boy  or  a  girl  read 
"  Walter  Scott,"  and  a  young  man 
25 


ON    READING 

make  acquaintance  with  "  Falstaff  ' 
and  "  Don  Quixote."  Young  people 
of  both  sexes  soon  learn  to  know,  too, 
what  is  accessible  to  them  of  Shake- 
speare and  Goethe.  In  the  same  way 
it  would  be  unnatural  to  let  Danish 
boys  or  girls  grow  up  without  some 
knowledge  of  the  chief  writers  of 
their  own  country.  The  man  or 
woman  who  does  not  know  "  Jeppe 
paa  Bjerget "  and  "  Erasmus  Mon- 
tanus  "  is  outside  his  fellow-country- 
men's pale  of  culture. 

It  is,  however,  a  sign  that  indi- 
viduality is  lacking  when  people's 
favorite  authors  and  favorite  books 
like  so  seldom  off  the  beaten  track. 
Occasionally  the  reverse  is  true. 
The  English  historian,  Gibbon,  for 
instance,  is  no  longer  generally  read. 
Yet  I  know  a  German  painter  and 
26 


ON    READING 

poet  who  has  read  with  enjoyment, 
not  once,  but  many  times,  '  The 
Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman 
Empire."  Gibbon's  wide  vision, 
great  intellectual  freedom,  and  ex- 
traordinary descriptive  power  give 
his  work  lasting  value,  and  to  this 
reader  Gibbon  is  the  master  of  his- 
torical writing. 

In  Denmark,  Christian  Zahrtmann, 
the  painter,  has  read  Leonora  Chris- 
tina's "  Jammersminde  "  for  years, 
over  and  over  again,  with  such  ab- 
sorption that  the  book  has  grown  to 
be  part  of  him,  inspiring  long  series 
of  original  and  important  pictures. 
We  ought  to  read  what  is  of  most 
value  to  us,  as  he  has  read  that  book. 
There  is  unfortunately  little  of  such 
forcible  originality  and  singularity 
amongst  us. 

27 


ON    READING 

But,  you  will  ask,  how  am  I  to 
find  the  good  books  that  are  to  ap- 
peal directly  to  me?  It  would  be  as 
hard  to  indicate  an  infallible  way  of 
finding  such  books  as  to  lay  down 
rules  for  making  the  acquaintance 
of  the  pleasantest  and  most  profit- 
able people  one  could  know.  All 
that  can  be  done  is  to  utter  warnings 
against  methods  which  do  not  lead  in 
the  right  direction. 

There  are  people  who  do  not  think 
it  necessary  to  read  books  themselves, 
because  they  can  get  information  in 
other  ways.  Many  prefer  a  general 
survey  of  things,  believing  they  see 
most  when  they  see  most  widely, 
and  seize  eagerly  on  that  compen- 
dious class  of  books  which  begin 
with  the  creation  of  the  world  and 
end  with  our  own  times,  —  the 


ON    READING 

so-called    literary    histories    of    the 
world. 

This  is  exactly  the  sort  of  book 
that  does  most  harm.  No  one  man 
is  capable  of  writing  such  a  book, 
and  as  such  books  go  they  are  far 
more  likely  to  stupefy  than  to  in- 
struct. The  author  of  such  a  literary 
history  of  the  world  speaks  famil- 
iarly of  writings  in  half  a  hundred 
languages,  with  which  it  is  impossible 
that  he  can  have  more  than  a  slight 
acquaintance.  If  he  had  begun  to 
read  before  he  was  born,  and  had 
never  done  anything  else,  —  never 
enjoyed  life,  never  slept,  never  eaten 
or  drunk,  —  but  only  read,  until  he 
published  his  book,  he  would  not  have 
had  time  to  read  more  than  a  very 
small  portion  of  the  books  he  men- 
tions and  discusses.  He  can  only 
29 


ON    READING 

know  most  imperfectly  himself  that 
which  he  strives  to  impart  to  others, 
and  his  teaching  will  be  imperfect, 
like  his  knowledge. 

A  book  which  is  really  to  instruct 
must  embrace  either  a  single  coun- 
try, or  a  short,  definite  period.  One 
might  almost  say  the  shorter  the 
period,  the  better.  Comparative  nar- 
rowness of  subject  does  not  make  a 
narrow  book.  Things  that  are  great 
and  comprehensive  are  produced  only 
by  greatness  of  treatment,  by  the 
author's  comprehensive  vision,  not 
by  his  endeavor  to  cover  an  immense 
field.  The  infinite  in  itself  is  not  im- 
mensely much;  frequently  it  is  best 
revealed  by  symbolic  treatment  of 
some  significant  detail.  A  naturalist 
can  discuss  an  insect  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  reveal  an  insight  into  the 
30 


ON    READING 

universe.  In  the  same  way,  the  great 
writer  will  always  treat  his  subject 
symbolically.  Even  when  he  is  writ- 
ing about  a  short  period  or  an  indi- 
vidual, through  his  description  of  the 
subject,  his  explanation  of  the  sub- 
ject, and  his  criticism  of  the  subject 
—  there  are  always  these  three  parts 
in  a  piece  of  writing  —  he  will  reveal 
the  laws  of  all  progress  and  of  all 
intellectual  activity. 

Eschew,  therefore,  immense  gen- 
eral surveys!  Replace  them  by  an 
encyclopaedia!  An  encyclopaedia  does 
not  pretend  to  be  individual.  It  pre- 
tends to  no  more  than  dry  informa- 
tion, preferably  correct,  about  books 
and  men. 

There  is  nowadays  a  superstition 
in  favor  of  so-called  general  educa- 
tion, —  a  phrase  of  which  I  confess 
31 


ON    READING 

I  am  a  little  afraid.  If  we  read  to 
obtain  a  general  education,  our  read- 
ing easily  becomes  so  general  that 
there  is  no  education  in  it.  We  read 
now  about  whales,  now  about  the 
Congo  State,  now  about  the  drama, 
now  about  teeth,  now  about  social- 
ism in  Bavaria,  now  about  popular 
ballads  in  Servia,  now  about  the 
Revolution  of  1830,  —  a  hetero- 
geneous collection  of  facts,  —  and 
we  consider  ourselves  generally 
educated. 

Every  one  who  can  do  anything, 
can  do  something  in  particular. 
From  the  particular,  windows  open 
out  into  the  general.  There  are  far 
fewer  roads  that  lead  from  purely 
general  to  particular  kinds  of  knowl- 
edge. So  if  the  question  were 
asked,  What  should  we  read?  I 


ON    READING 

should  reply,  Better  far  read  ten 
books  about  one  thing  or  about  one 
man  than  a  hundred  books  about  a 
hundred  different  things! 

Suppose  one  desired  to  learn  some- 
thing about  English  parliamentary 
proceedings;  would  there  be  any 
sense  in  taking  up  "  Hansard," 
the  collected  stenographic  reports  of 
proceedings  in  Parliament,  —  and 
trying  to  read  through  some  decades 
or  more  of  them?  The  man  who  did 
so  would  almost  certainly  go  mad. 

On  the  other  hand  I  was  very 
much  interested  at  one  time  in  the 
English  politician  and  novelist  Lord 
Beaconsfield ;  at  the  outset,  in  that 
particular  man  only.  I  began  by 
reading  what  he  had  written  in  the 
way  of  novels  and  tales,  and  after- 
wards followed  up  the  history  of  his 
3  33 


ON    READING 

public  life.  I  thus  came  also  to  his 
speeches  in  Parliament.  And  as 
my  interest  had  a  centre,  all  these 
speeches  about  subjects  that  would 
not  otherwise  have  engaged  my 
attention  enthralled  me,  and  not 
Beaconsfield's  speeches  only,  but  all 
the  speeches  made  by  his  colleagues, 
and  especially  by  his  enemies  and 
opponents.  He  had  enemies  in  plenty, 
each  with  his  own  individuality,  who 
interested  me  in  a  certain  degree  be- 
cause the  man  with  whom  they  quar- 
relled interested  me  greatly;  and  in 
this  way  a  considerable  period  of 
English  political  history  that  would 
otherwise  have  been  rather  out  of  my 
way  became  exceedingly  attractive 
to  me. 

Therefore  my  advice  is,  as  soon  as 
a  person  or  a  thing  interests  you  as 
34 


ON    READING 

a  reader,  seize  it,  absorb  yourself  in 
it.  You  will  learn  a  thousand  times 
more  by  doing  that  than  by  absorb- 
ing yourself  in  a  thousand  things 
and  people.  The  object  widens  be- 
fore your  gaze,  and  gradually  ex- 
pands to  a  whole  horizon.  Never 
begin  with  the  horizon,  or  you  will 
understand  nothing  of  what  lies 
between. 

After  all,  the  real  importance  is 
not  in  the  book  but  in  the  way  in 
which  it  is  read.  I  do  not,  of  course, 
mean  to  say  there  are  not  numbers 
of  poor  books  it  is  a  waste  of  time 
to  have  anything  to  do  with.  People 
warn,  and  justly,  against  dangerous 
books,  and  occasionally  the  books 
called  dangerous  really  are  so.  But 
these  dangerous  books  are  not  only 
those  which  speculate  in  the  youthful 
35 


ON    READING 

reader's  sensual  impulses,  or  appeal 
to  his  idleness  or  frivolity,  but  those 
also  that  represent  base  and  low 
things  as  admirable,  or  disseminate 
prejudices,  and  throw  a  hateful  light 
on  liberal-mindedness,  or  the  pursuit 
of  freedom. 

Useful  or  baneful,  dangerous  or 
safe,  we  are  dealing  with  relative 
conceptions.  Books  which  give  a 
childish,  and  thus  an  erroneous  pic- 
ture of  human  nature,  —  such,  for 
instance,  as  Ingermann's  historical 
novels,  —  may  possibly  be  placed 
without  any  great  danger  in  the 
hands  of  children  of  from  ten  to 
twelve  years  of  age;  older  children 
they  may  easily  harm.  Generally 
speaking,  books  which  contain  no  nu- 
tritive matter  for  grown-up  people 
may  very  well  contain  aliment  and 


ON    READING 

entertainment  for  children.  On  the 
other  hand,  numbers  of  books  written 
with  no  objectionable  intention  de- 
scribe circumstances,  vices,  and  con- 
flicts between  passions  and  duties 
which  it  would  be  in  the  highest  de- 
gree unwise  to  place  in  the  hands 
of  undeveloped  readers,  even  though 
this  does  not  in  any  way  lessen  their 
value  or  make  them  less  appropri- 
ate reading  for  those  whose  mkids 
are  more  mature  and  whose  opin- 
ions are  fixed. 

Next  to  the  dangerous  books  are 
the  wearisome  books.  It  is  a  sorry 
superstition  that  leads  people  invol- 
untarily to  cherish  a  certain  re- 
spect for  earnestness  and  erudition 
that  weary  them.  Wearisome  books 
discourage  people  from  acquiring 
knowledge. 

37 


ON    READING 

Histories,  for  example,  are  often 
frightfully  wearisome ;  but  how  many 
patient  people  keep  on  reading  them 
because  they  regard  it  as  a  sort  of 
duty!  Do  not  waste  your  time  and 
energy  over  what  is  dry  as  dust,  un- 
less, as  a  specialist,  you  are  seeking 
for  information.  History  is,  and 
ought  to  be,  the  most  interesting  of 
all  subjects.  To  my  mind  it  is  far 
more  interesting  to  read  about  real 
men  and  women  than  about  ficti- 
tious ones,  even  if  the  latter  have 
been  drawn  from  life. 

Historians  sometimes  take  too  little 
pains,  and  describe  men  merely  from 
the  outside,  without  having  sought 
first  to  acquire  the  intimate  personal 
sort  of  knowledge  that  enables  them 
to  understand  their  hero's  character 
and  motives. 

38 


ON    READING 

I  was  sitting  one  evening  in  a 
German  University  town  by  the  side 
of  a  little  Professor  of  History,  when 
he  informed  me  that  he  was  at  work 
on  a  book  about  Both  well,  the  wild 
Scottish  Earl,  Mary  Stuart's  lover, 
Darnley's  murderer.  I  exclaimed 
involuntarily,  with  a  glance  at  him: 
"  It  must  be  very  difficult  for  you 
(I  meant:  for  you)  to  enter  into  his 
feelings."  "  There  is  not  the  slight- 
est occasion,"  he  answered.  "  I  have 
all  the  documents."  After  a  score 
'of  years  I  still  remember  this  reply, 
it  made  so  deep  an  impression  upon 
me.  The  documents  were  there,  but 
not  the  breath  of  life,  none  of  the 
individuality  of  the  author. 

Read,  by  way  of  contrast,  such 
books  as  Carlyle's  "  Cromwell "  and 
the  first  volume  of  his  "  Frederick 
89 


ON    READING 

the  Great,"  or  Michelet's  "History 
of  France"  and  Mommsen's  "Roman 
History."  Here,  on  each  page,  the 
characters  are  alive,  and  seem  to 
come  forward  to  meet  us. 

The  question,  therefore,  What 
should  we  read?  brings  us  immedi- 
ately to  the  companion  question: 

How  should  we  read? 

Young  girls  sometimes  make  use 
of  the  expression :  "  Reading  books 
to  read  one's  self."  They  prefer  a 
book  that  presents  some  resemblance 
to  their  own  circumstances  and  ex- 
periences. It  is  true  that  we  can 
never  understand  except  through 
ourselves.  Yet,  when  we  want  to 
understand  a  book,  it  should  not 
be  our  aim  to  discover  ourselves  in 
that  book,  but  to  grasp  clearly  the 
meaning  which  its  author  has  sought 
40 


ON    READING 

to  convey  through  the  characters  pre- 
sented in  it. 

We  reach  through  the  book  to  the 
soul  that  created  it.  And  when  we 
have  learned  as  much  as  this  of  the 
author,  we  often  wish  to  read  more 
of  his  works.  We  suspect  that  there 
is  some  connection  running  through 
the  different  things  he  has  written, 
and  by  reading  his  works  consecu- 
tively we  arrive  at  a  better  under- 
standing of  him  and  them. 

Take,  for  instance,  Henrik  Ibsen's 
tragedy,  "  Ghosts."  This  earnest  and 
profound  play  was  at  first  almost 
unanimously  denounced  as  an  im- 
moral publication.  Ibsen's  next 
work,  "  An  Enemy  of  the  People," 
describes,  as  is  well  known,  the  ill- 
treatment  received  by  a  doctor  in  a 
little  seaside  town  when  he  points  out 
41 


ON    READING 

the  fact  that  the  baths  for  which  the 
town  is  noted  are  contaminated.  The 
town  does  not  want  such  a  report 
spread;  it  is  not  willing  to  incur  the 
necessary  expensive  reparation,  but 
elects  instead  to  abuse  the  doctor, 
treating  him  as  if  he  and  not  the 
water  were  the  contaminating  ele- 
ment. The  play  was  an  answer  to 
the  reception  given  to  "  Ghosts,"  and 
when  we  perceive  this  fact  we  read 
it  in  a  new  light.  We  ought,  then, 
preferably  to  read  so  as  to  com- 
prehend the  connection  between  an 
author's  books. 

We  ought  to  read,  too,  so  as  to 
grasp  the  connection  between  an 
author's  own  books  and  those  of 
other  writers  who  have  influenced 
him,  or  on  whom  he  himself  exerts 
an  influence.  Pause  a  moment  over 


ON    READING 

"An  Enemy  of  the  People,"  and 
recollect  the  stress  laid  in  that  play 
upon  the  majority  who  as  a  major- 
ity are  almost  always  in  the  wrong, 
against  the  emancipated  individual, 
in  the  right;  recollect  the  concluding 
reply  about  the  strength  that  comes 
from  standing  alone.  If  the  reader, 
struck  by  the  force  and  singularity 
of  these  thoughts,  were  to  trace 
whether  they  had  previously  been 
enunciated  in  Scandinavian  books, 
he  would  find  them  expressed  with 
quite  fundamental  energy  through- 
out the  writings  of  Soren  Kierke- 
gaard, and  he  would  discern  a 
connection  between  Norwegian  and 
Danish  literature,  and  observe  how 
an  influence  from  one  country  was 
asserting  itself  in  the  other.  Thus, 
by  careful  reading,  we  reach  through 
43 


ON    READING 

a  book  to  the  man  behind  it,  to  the 
gieat  intellectual  cohesion  in  which 
he  stands,  and  to  the  influence  which 
he  in  his  turn  exerts. 

Of  course  this  mode  of  reading 
is  not  for  every  one.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  only  those  who  are  criti- 
cally inclined  pursue  it.  On  the 
other  hand,  every  one  can  read  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  deduce  the 
moral  lesson  contained  in  what  he 
reads. 

I  said  above  that  we  are  not  to 
believe  we  can  grow  better  by  mere 
reading,  that  we  are  not  to  demand 
of  an  author  that  he  improve  us  by 
moralizing.  We  ought  nevertheless 
so  to  read  that  we  appropriate  from 
our  reading  the  moral  lesson  that  lies 
hidden  behind  it. 

I  will  select  as  an  instance  of  what 


ON    READING 

I  mean,  the  siege  and  surrender  of 
Soissons,  on  March  3,  1814. 

After  the  battle  of  Leipzig,  Na- 
poleon's position  was  as  follows: 
He  had  from  sixty  to  seventy  thou- 
sand men  under  arms,  —  exhausted, 
broken-down  troops,  the  majority 
of  them  mere  children.  Opposed  to 
them  were  three  hundred  thousand 
men, — hardy  and  victorious  soldiers. 
His  generals  were  marching  into 
France  in  disorder.  What  did  Na- 
poleon do?  He  hastened  wherever 
the  danger  was  greatest,  reassured 
his  troops,  hurled  them  against  the 
invading  enemy,  won  a  victory  at 
Brienne,  at  La  Rothiere,  —  one  to 
four,  sometimes  one  to  five.  He 
dared  not  assume  the  offensive 
against  such  superior  numbers,  but, 
like  a  beast  of  prey,  crouching  ready 
45 


ON    READING 

to  spring,  he  awaited  some  favor- 
able chance,  some  mistake,  which  he 
was  convinced  the  enemy  would  yet 
commit. 

The  mistake  was  made;  Bliicher 
and  Schwarzenberg  advanced  sepa- 
rately. Napoleon  flung  himself  upon 
Bliicher,  defeated  him  four  days  in 
succession,  next  fell  upon  Schwar- 
zenberg, put  him  to  flight,  rejected 
offers  of  peace  because  the  enemy 
would  not  concede  France  her  natu- 
ral boundaries,  and  hastened  after 
Bliicher  again,  to  crush  him  com- 
pletely and  re-establish  his  own 
power. 

Then  suddenly  everything  changed. 
The  little  fortress  of  Soissons,  which 
prevented  Bliicher  and  Schwarzen- 
berg from  combining  their  forces 
afresh,  surrendered  at  the  decisive 
46 


ON    READING 

moment.  "  Bliicher's  defeat,"  says 
Thiers,  "  was  as  certain  as  anything 
in  a  war  can  be.  For  the  first  time 
in  this  campaign  not  only  the  strate- 
gic, but  also  the  numerical  superior- 
ity, was  on  Napoleon's  side.  .  .  . 
What  was  it  that  could  thus  over- 
throw circumstances  and  fortune? 
A  weak  man,  —  one  who  without 
being  either  a  traitor  or  a  coward, 
or  even  a  poor  officer,  allowed  him- 
self to  be  terrified  by  the  enemy's 
threats.  Thus  was  consummated  the 
most  baleful  event  in  our  history, 
next  to  that  which  occurred  the  fol- 
lowing year  between  Wavre  and 
Waterloo." 

Read  the  story  in  the  best  modern 
presentment  of  it,  —  Henri  Hous- 
saye's  book,  "  1814." 

The  fortress  of  Soissons  had  al- 
47 


ON    READING 

ways  been  regarded  as  an  important 
strategic  point.  But  before  1814  no 
one  had  thought  of  putting  it  in  a 
state  of  defence.  Who  would  think 
of  an  invasion  of  France!  The  out- 
works were  in  ruins.  Repairs  were 
set  on  foot,  and  the  command  given 
over  to  Governor- General  Moreau, 
-no  relation  of  the  celebrated 
Moreau.  The  garrison  consisted  of 
a  handful  of  men,  —  seven  hundred 
Poles,  broken-hearted  because  they 
saw  their  country's  cause  lost,  but 
nevertheless  unswervingly  attached 
to  Napoleon,  one  hundred  and  forty 
gunners  of  the  Old  Guard,  and 
eighty  cavalry.  The  place  was 
equipped  with  twenty  light  cannon. 
There  were  therefore  in  all  be- 
tween nine  hundred  and  one  thou- 
sand men.  Outside  the  fortress 
48 


ON    READING 

stood  fifty  thousand  men,  —  the 
Russians  under  Winzingenrode,  the 
Prussians  under  Bliicher,  and  an 
artillery  corps  with  forty  heavy 
cannon.  The  cannonade  began  on 
March  2,  at  11  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing. By  12  o'clock  the  gun-carriages 
had  been  shot  away  from  several  of 
the  fortress  cannon,  and  a  number 
of  the  men  disabled.  At  3  o'clock 
the  Russian  column  made  an  assault. 
It  was  repulsed  by  three  hundred 
Poles  under  Colonel  Koszynski 
That  day  the  little  garrison  had 
twenty-three  killed  and  one  hundred 
and  twenty-three  wounded. 

In  the  meantime  the  two  allied 
generals  could  hear  a  steady  can- 
nonade in  the  direction  of  Quercq, 
and  were  growing  uneasy.  After 
twelve  hours'  bombardment  they  had 
4  49 


ON    READING 

still  been  unable  to  make  a  breach. 
It  might  possibly  require  twelve  or 
even  thirty-six  hours  yet,  and  they 
had  not  the  time  to  spare.  They 
were  only  a  day's  march  in  front  of 
Napoleon,  and  he  was  following  at 
their  heels. 

Bliicher  sent  Captain  Mertens  to 
parley.  Moreau,  when  he  found  that 
Mertens  had  come  to  talk  of  the 
surrender  of  the  fortress,  broke  off 
the  discussion;  yet,  instead  of  dis- 
missing the  captain  without  more 
ado,  took  occasion  to  mention  that 
he  could  not  enter  into  oral  proposals 
with  an  officer  who  had  not  brought 
written  authority  with  him.  An  hour 
later  Mertens  was  in  the  town  again 
with  a  letter.  An  energetic  com- 
mandant would  not  have  received  the 
man  with  a  flag  of  truce  a  second 
50 


ON    READING 

time.  The  condition  of  the  fortress 
was  not  desperate.  Moreau  could 
have  taken  advantage  of  the  night  to 
repair  the  damage  he  had  sustained. 
Mertens,  however,  like  a  clever 
diplomatist,  exhausted  himself  in 
compliments  upon  the  courage  of 
the  garrison  and  the  Governor,  re- 
minded Moreau  of  the  inadequacy 
of  his  own  troops  and  of  the  strength 
of  the  allies,  —  fifty  to  one.  It  was 
a  great  responsibility,  for  the  sake 
of  a  useless  resistance,  he  argued,  to 
expose  the  town  to  being  taken  by 
storm,  and  as  a  result  pillaged  and 
burnt.  Moreau  replied  with  the  sen- 
timent that  he  would  let  himself  be 
buried  under  the  ruins  of  his  walls. 
But  Mertens,  who  read  his  uncer- 
tainty, did  not  allow  himself  to  be 
overawed,  and  represented  to  him 
51 


ON    READING 

that  after  honorable  capitulation  he 
would  be  at  liberty  to  join  the  im- 
perial army. 

He  appealed  to  the  weak  man's 
sense  of  duty  by  saying  that  in  one 
or  two,  or  three  days  at  most,  Sois- 
sons  would  be  compelled  to  surrender 
in  any  case;  that  those  of  the  sol- 
diers who  survived  the  assault  would 
then  become  prisoners  of  war,  and 
the  inhabitants  of  the  town  would  be 
exposed  to  the  horrors  of  pillage, 
whereas  now  the  garrison  might 
march  out  free. 

Nothing  more  was  required  of 
Moreau  than  to  obey  his  original  or- 
ders. The  regulations  read:  "Make 
use  of  every  means  of  defence,  be 
deaf  to  intelligence  communicated  by 
the  enemy,  and  be  as  proof  against 
his  whispers  as  against  his  attacks." 
52 


ON    READING 

And  further:  "  The  Governor  of  a 
fortress  must  remember  that  he  is 
defending  one  of  the  bulwarks  of 
the  Empire,  and  that  his  surrender 
one  single  day  sooner  than  necessary 
may  be  attended  with  the  most  im- 
portant consequences  to  the  defence 
of  the  state  and  the  safety  of  the 
army." 

Moreau  had  several  times  shown 
himself  a  brave  man.  Without  proof 
of  courage  indeed  men  did  not  attain 
to  the  rank  of  general  under  Napo- 
leon. But  he  was  not  heroical,  and 
doubtless  he  regarded  the  Emperor's 
cause  as  lost,  as  did  most  of  the 
generals.  He  did  not  wish  to  sacri- 
fice himself  needlessly. 

He  summoned  a  council  of  war, 
at  which  it  was  shown  that  there  were 
still  three  thousand  gun-charges  left 
53 


ON    READING 

and  two  hundred  thousand  cartridges. 
In  spite  of  some  division  of  opinion, 
the  desire  to  continue  the  defence 
triumphed.  Scarcely,  however,  had 
the  council  dispersed  before  another 
officer  under  a  flag  of  truce  arrived 
with  a  letter,  in  which  the  words 
"assault,"  "pillage,"  and  "hew 
down "  occurred  with  disquieting 
and  terrifying  effect.  A  fresh 
council  of  war  met,  and  yielded;  the 
Polish  colonel  was  the  only  one  who 
advocated  resistance,  but  being  a 
foreigner  he  had  no  vote. 

Moreau  then  took  the  truce-maker 
aside,  and  agreed  to  the  capitulation, 
on  condition  that  the  town  should 
have  no  contribution  levied  upon  it, 
and  that  the  garrison  should  be  al- 
lowed to  march  out  with  its  arms 
and  baggage.  The  enemy  agreed. 
54 


ON    READING 

The  Governor's  orders,  however,  had 
been:  "When  the  council  has  been 
heard,  the  Governor  of  a  fortress 
must  decide  alone  and  on  his  own 
responsibility.  He  must  follow  the 
firmest  and  most  intrepid  counsel 
not  absolutely  inconsistent  with 
practicability." 

Day  broke.  The  constant  coming 
and  going  of  the  ambassadors,  the 
cessation  of  the  firing,  the  fright- 
ful stillness,  like  the  silence  in  a 
room  where  some  one  is  dying, 
made  the  troops  begin  to  feel  un- 
easy. Were  they  to  lay  down  their 
arms  after  having  defended  them- 
selves so  well?  Misgivings  in- 
creased. Murmurings  went  through 
the  ranks,  the  indignation  of  the 
inhabitants  mingling  with  that  of 
the  soldiers.  The  words  "  coward  " 
55 


ON    READING 

and  "  traitor "  were  linked  with 
Moreau's  name. 

It  was  9  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
Suddenly  the  cannonade  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Quercq  became  deafening. 
All  started  at  the  sound.  Then 
followed  an  explosion  of  hope  and 
resentment  in  the  cry:  "  It  is  the 
Emperor's  cannon!  The  Emperor  is 
coming!  C'est  le  canon  de  I'Em- 
pereur! "  -  the  shout  that  during 
the  whole  war  had  been  the  signal 
for  fresh  courage  among  the  French 
and  terror  in  the  hearts  of  the  enemy. 
The  enemy  might  stand  against  Na- 
poleon's generals,  but  he  trembled 
before  the  approach  of  the  man 
himself. 

On  every  side  the  cry  arose:  "  Tear 
the  capitulation  to  pieces,  the  Em- 
peror is  coming!  The  dispute  was 
56 


ON    READING 

still  unsettled  as  to  how  many  can- 
non the  French  might  take  with 
them,  —  two  or  more.  The  alter- 
cation grew  hot.  Then  General 
Woronzof  said  in  Russian  to  L6- 
wenstern:  "Let  them  take  all  their 
artillery  with  them,  and  mine  too,  so 
long  as  they  vacate  the  fortress  and 
go!" 

The  document  was  scarcely  signed 
when  the  sound  of  the  cannonade 
was  distinctly  heard  near  at  hand. 
Moreau  grew  pale ;  he  seized  L6 wen- 
stern  by  the  arm,  and  cried:  "You 
have  tricked  me.  The  firing  is  com- 
ing nearer.  It  is  Bliicher  who  is 
fleeing.  Had  I  not  surrendered  the 
Emperor  would  have  driven  Bliicher 
into  the  Aisne.  He  will  have  me 
shot.  I  am  lost." 

Napoleon  pardoned  him ;  but  there 
57 


ON    READING 

is  evidence  to  show  that  if  the  Gov- 
ernor had  not  capitulated  when  he 
did,  the  enemy  would  have  raised  the 
siege  the  next  day. 

There  was  a  saying  in  France  at 
that  time  that  a  man  should  always 
fire  his  last  shot,  because  it  might  be 
the  one  to  kill  the  enemy.  Moreau 
did  not  fire  his  last  shot.  If  he  had, 
according  to  all  human  calculation, 
the  enemies  of  France  would  have 
been  beaten,  and  the  Europe  of  to- 
day might  have  been  different. 

I  know  no  story  more  suggestive, 
or  more  profound,  than  this  of  the 
siege  of  Soissons.  I  know  none  more 
moral. 

There  is  no  need  to  raise  the  ob- 
jection that  it  is  exceedingly  uncer- 
tain whether  Napoleon,  had  he  not 
beaten  the  Russians,  Prussians,  and 
58 


ON    READING 

Austrians  in  1814,  would  not  still 
have  been  ruined  by  some  later 
combination  of  circumstances.  *  It 
is  quite  as  possible  that  he  would 
have  held  out.  He  had  become  a 
different  man;  he  was  no  longer 
swayed  by  ambitious  dreams  alone. 
All  the  greatness  in  him  had 
been  developed  as  it  had  never  been 
before. 

But  even  conceding  the  argument 
for  a  moment,  the  case  only  becomes 
greater  and  more  important.  We 
will  suppose  it  thus:  If  Soissons  had 
been  held,  Europe  would  have  been 
spared  fifteen  years  of  terrible  re- 
action. The  fate  of  Europe  was 
hanging  on  a  thread.  And  it  was 
snapped,  not  by  cowardice  or  treach- 
ery, not  by  terrible  privation,  in  the 
presence  of  which  all  better  men  are 
59 


ON    READING 

at  their  post,  but  by  loyal,  honorable 
small-mindedness.  In  this  story  we 
have  the  psychology  of  honorable 
small-mindedness. 

You  feel  it  coming,  step  by  step. 
There  are  reasons  galore  for  not 
doing  the  only  thing  that  ought  to 
be  done. 

You  are  eight  hundred  against 
fifty  thousand.  Is  that  a  reason? 
You  have  fought  bravely  the  whole 
day  through  against  tremendous 
odds.  Is  that  a  reason?  In  any 
case  you  can  only  hold  out  a  very 
short  time.  Is  that  a  reason?  By 
remaining  firm  you  are  hazarding  the 
welfare  of  countless  human  beings; 
that  is,  by  being  small-minded,  you 
may,  possibly,  probably,  save  the 
lives  of  worthy  men.  By  yielding 
now  you  hope  to  be  able  to  prove 
60 


ON    READING 

yourself  a  hero  another  time.  As 
if  these  were  reasons! 

This  present  task  is  the  one  you 
must  not  shirk.  This  is  the  higher 
command,  which  must  be  uncondi- 
tionally obeyed.  This  is  the  will  of 
Caesar,  —  the  Caesar  unto  whom  we 
must  all  render  what  is  his  own. 
This  is  Rhodes;  we  must  dance  here. 
This  is  the  spot  in  the  universe  upon 
which  the  decision  depends. 

And  none  of  us  can  ever  know 
whether  the  spot  whereon  we  stand 
may  not  be  such  a  turning-point, 
whence  interminable  threads  start  in 
all  directions.  We  do  not  know. 
The  only  thing  we  do  know  is  that 
now  is  the  time  to  be  a  man,  and 
not  a  weakling,  a  Governor,  not  a 
capitulant.  And  if  we  do  not  stand 
firm,  if  with  the  greatest  respect 
61 


ON    READING 

for  the  circumstances  we  yield,  and 
upon  the  most  honorable  terms  in 
the  world,  with  drums  beating  and 
trumpets  sounding,  we  sign  the  capit- 
ulation, .  .  .  close  at  hand  we  shall 
hear  the  Emperor's  guns  thundering 
loudly,  and  we  shall  feel  ourselves 
rejected  and  lost,  worthy  of  a 
wretch's  death. 

When  we  read  so  that  we  person- 
ally assimilate  what  we  have  read, 
we  feel  this  is  the  central  point  in 
the  course  of  circumstances,  in  the 
origin  of  actions,  the  central  point 
of  character,  the  central  point  of 
will,  the  central  point  of  passion,  the 
Archimedean  spot  whence  the  earth 
can  be  moved.  The  nerve  of  events 
and  even  of  history  lies  bared  before 
our  eyes. 

Why  should  we  read,  then?  To 
62 


ON    READING 

increase  our  knowledge,  divest  our- 
selves of  prejudices,  and  in  an  ever 
greater  degree  become  personalities. 
What  should  we  read?  The  books 
that  attract  us  and  hold  us  fast, 
because  they  are  exactly  suited  to 
us.  These  books  are  the  good  books 
for  us. 

Some  one  asked  a  friend  of  mine: 
'  What  kind  of  books  do  you  pre- 
fer?—  romantic,  naturalistic,  allego- 
rical? "  "  Good  books,"  he  answered, 
and  it  was  an  excellent  reply;  for 
there  is  nothing  more  stupid  than  to 
stick  to  rubrics.  That  book  is  good 
for  me  which  develops  me. 

How  ought  we  to  read  these  books  ? 
First,  with  affection,  next,  with  criti- 
cism, next,  if  possible,  so  that  our 
reading  has  a  central  point,  from 
which  we  may  guess  or  descry  con- 
63 


ON    READING 

nections,  and  lastly,  with  the  aim  of 
fully  understanding  and  making  our 
own  the  moral  lesson  to  be  found  in 
every  event  narrated. 

A  whole  world  can  thus  open  out 
for  us  in  a  single  book.  We  may 
become  acquainted  through  it  with 
some  parts  of  human  nature,  wherein 
we  shall  not  only  recognize  ourselves, 
—  changeable  and  rich  in  alterations 
and  transformations,  —  but  find  also 
the  unchangeable  being  and  eternal 
laws  of  Nature.  Lastly,  if  we  read 
attentively,  we  have  the  power  to  add 
to  our  moral  stature,  in  so  far  as  we 
vividly  feel  those  things  which  ought 
to  be  done  or  left  undone. 


